


Vicky Bliss and the Thief

by katayla



Category: Vicky Bliss - Elizabeth Peters
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-17
Updated: 2018-12-17
Packaged: 2019-09-20 21:37:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17030460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katayla/pseuds/katayla
Summary: A Hogwarts AU





	Vicky Bliss and the Thief

**Author's Note:**

  * For [betony](https://archiveofourown.org/users/betony/gifts).



_Year One_

I was an intelligent child. This meant several different things. It meant my teachers liked me and it meant that when I started being able to do strange things, I kept it to myself. I could read in the dark and I no longer had to look for our chickens' eggs--they floated right to me. Both things were to my advantage, so I saw no reason to make a fuss about them.

Still, I couldn't say I had been expecting the letter from Hogwarts to arrive on my 11th birthday.

"Well," my mother said, "I suppose we always knew you were destined for something special."

(My brother Bob stuck his tongue out at me at that.)

"Does it have to be in England?" my dad asked. "Don't they have wizarding schools in America?"

(As I later found out, they did. But Hogwarts had kept its eyes on me and swept in before the American schools had a chance. This isn't bragging, but simply telling the truth. As I said, I was an intelligent child and more than one school had wanted me. Still, there were many times when I imagined how much simpler my life would've been if I'd gone anywhere but Hogwarts.)

"Vicky has always wanted to travel," my dad said.

And that was that. I ordered my supplies and spent the summer reading up on magic. I learned that there were many wizarding families that went back millennia. I had a lot of catching up to do, but I was determined not to come in second place to anyone.

My family couldn't afford to come with me to England, so a flight attendant watched over me. I stuck to Muggle books on the plane, obeying the rule to keep magic secret. Anyway, I knew everything in my new school books at that point.

At the airport, I was met by Professor Schmidt. He told me he was here to meet all the new witches and wizards. He was a cheerful man, who instantly made me feel at ease, even when he instructed me to run at the wall between Platforms 9 and 10.

And there it was, the Hogwarts Express. It had been taking students to Hogwarts for centuries. I stood looking at it, soaking in the history, when a blond boy jostled into me.

"Hey!" I said.

He looked at me and I had what might've been the first beginnings of my first crush when I saw his brilliant blue eyes. "American!"

I frowned. "So?"

He shrugged. "Muggle-born?"

"Yes," I said, narrowing my eyes at him. I had heard about prejudice against Muggle-borns. Maybe his eyes weren't so blue after all.

But he grinned and said, "Me too. I'm John Smyth."

And I relaxed and introduced myself, sure I'd made my first Hogwarts friend. We found seats together on the train. When the trolly of treats went by and I didn't buy anything, John darted out into the aisle and came back with a handful of chocolate frogs. At the time, he said he had extra pocket money. Now, I'm sure he stole them.

We spent the journey talking about what we wanted to study and if he knew quite a lot about professors and classes, well, then so did I. And if people glanced into our compartment and let their eyes linger on him, I didn't notice.

Once we neared Hogwarts, John grew more subdued. He shuffled off the train behind me, and slouched as Professor Schmidt welcomed us to Hogwarts. Really, the dear professor got quite carried away, and we might still be standing there if Peeves hadn't interrupted.

The Sorting Hat Ceremony had been a source of anxiety for me ever since I read about it. They said all of the Houses had their strengths and the hat took your preferences into account, but I couldn't imagine being anything but a Ravenclaw. I wanted to be in the House that valued learning above all else.

Fortunately, my last name started with a B, so I was the fifth student to be sorted.

"Don't be worried," the hat whispered to me as soon as I slipped it on," for you are, indeed, RAVENCLAW."

The last word was shouted and I grinned and ran to the Ravenclaw table. But then I had something new to worry about. Where would my new friend end up? You could be friends with people in other houses, of course, but wouldn't it be more convenient to share a House?

We got to the S's and I kept my eyes on John. He looked down at the floor as they read Sanders and Smart and . . . had I misheard his name? No, I was sure he'd said his last name was Smyth. Was there some sort of mistake? I was so focused on this that I almost didn't hear when the name "John Tregarth" was called.

But I _did_ see John sigh heavily and start walking towards the sorting hat. And I heard the whispers start up around me. Tregarth? Then John was from one of the oldest wizarding families and not Muggle-born at all. The hat declared him a Slytherin and John walked to the table opposite mine. His eyes caught mine for a moment and I folded my arms and frowned at him. He shrugged, as if to say, "What?" He was greeted at his table by slaps on the back and cheers. Every House would be glad to have a Tregarth.

When we were allowed up from our tables, I rushed over to him. "Tregarth?"

"John Smyth sounds so much better," he said, leaning back against the table.

"Muggle-born?"

John shrugged. "I just wanted to make you feel comfortable."

"By _lying_?"

Students were streaming around us and my prefect was looking at me impatiently, so I shouted, "I hate liars" to John and whirled away.

"I am never speaking to him again!" I said to my prefect.

I think, even then, I knew that wasn't true.

_Year Two_

Not speaking to John would've been much easier if he stopped saying and doing such infuriating things. He'd contradict me in class or challenge me on some obscure fact he couldn't possibly be sure of. Worst of all, I kept stumbling on him in the library.

"I need that!" I said, snatching the copy of _Hogwarts: Paintings and Artwork_ out of John's hands. He was sitting with his feet up on one of the tables.

"You can't possibly need _all_ the books on art," John said, nodding at the stack I'd slammed down next to him.

"You _know_ I'm doing my History of Magic paper on art," I said.

For as far back as I could remember, I was transfixed by artwork, from the Monet reproductions my parents owned to the sculptures I read about in my Muggle classrooms. And, at Hogwarts, the paintings _moved_. I'd spent hours last year tracking subjects through the castle, and pestering Professor Schmidt to teach me how to create them. Alas, my magic wasn't yet up to such performances, though I could make stick figures move.

"You don't own the subject," John said. "In fact, my family donated this very painting."

He flipped open the book, seemingly at random, but I didn't even bother looking because I _knew_ he'd somehow landed on a picture that would indeed have a "Donated by the Tregarth family" caption.

"Then you don't need to read about it!"

John slid his feet off the table. "But Vicky, there's always more to learn."

And with that, he was off, leaving the book open on the table.

_Year Three_

"I knew I'd find you here," John said, strolling up to me as I browsed the shelves at Tomes and Scrolls.

It was our first weekend at Hogsmeade. Or, at any rate, _my_ first weekend. I imagined John, with his privileged background, had been there many times before. I'd also heard a rumor or two about him sneaking out of the castle. I wouldn't be the least bit surprised if he'd made illicit visits. Still, it was our first official visit as Hogwarts students and, yes, I'd headed straight to the bookstore.

"I suppose your first stop was the joke shop," I said. I was flipping through an art book I knew I couldn't afford. But I was good at retaining information and the shop owner seemed kindly. Maybe I could come back every week and read a little more.

"Amateur stuff," John said with a grin. "I don't need their help."

I frowned at him. "You're going to get caught someday."

I was pretty sure Professor Schmidt knew John was the one who enchanted his glasses to constantly skitter away from him, but I don't think Professor Max had figured out who had changed the colors of all the cauldrons.

"Oh Vicky, I have no idea what you're talking about," John said. He reached out and gently closed the book. "Come on, I'll buy you a Butterbeer."

And he took my hand in his. It was the first time a boy had ever held my hand. I looked at him, surprised, and he smiled at me, not quite meeting my eyes.

"Okay," I said, and left the book on the shelf.

(Later that night, I would find the book waiting for me on my bed. When I confronted John about it, he distracted me by explaining all the various magic barriers that prevented boys from entering the girls' dormitory.) 

_Year Four_

"Do you want to go to the Yule Ball with me?" Tony asked. He was the fourth boy to ask and the only one I felt a little sorry to say no to. We had become regular study partners that year and I couldn't say I didn't find him attractive. If things had been just a little bit different, I would've said yes.

"I have a date," I said.

Tony frowned. "It's John, isn't it? What do you even have in common?"

A sense of humor, a thirst for knowledge, even if we pursued it in different ways, and that certain something that called to me from the first time I saw him. But I couldn't express any of this at age 14 and I'm not sure I would've, even if I could have.

The truth was, John _hadn't_ asked me. He'd sit with me in the library, steal my quills and replace them with better ones, argue with me in class, and sneak looks at me, but he didn't ask me to the dance.

So all I said to Tony was, "Let's get back to work."

I had developed over the summer, as the saying went. I'd never quite slid under the radar at Hogwarts, as I spoke up too often in class and spent too much time with John, but now boys would approach me in the halls and walk with me to Hogsmeade. It was attention that I could largely do without, especially when the whole castle could talk of nothing but the Yule Ball.

The Yule Ball approached and still, John did not ask, but I had a feeling. So I took my time putting on the blue dress my mom and I had picked out that summer, let my hair down, and borrowed some makeup. And I walked slowly down the stairs and out of our common room.

John was lounging against the wall opposite the exit. He didn't straighten when he saw me, but a grin slowly spread across his face. I stood still and looked him in the eyes. Those blue, blue eyes that even 11 year old me knew she liked. Of course, he ruined it as soon as he opened his mouth.

"Heard you couldn't get a date," he said.

"I hate you," I said, turning on my heel and striding down the hall.

"Now, now," John said, hurrying just a little to catch up with me. "Here I am to rescue you and save you from the shame of entering the ball alone and this is what I get?"

"I'll have you know--" I started, ready to tell him just how many invitations I'd gotten, only to stop when I saw the look in his eyes. He _knew_ , he knew that I'd been asked, and he probably knew exactly why I turned all invitations all down.

Sometimes, I really _did_ hate him.

But he also wasn't stupid and he let the issue drop. He did however, catch up to me, and reach for my hand. I glared at him, but let him take it.

"I don't hate _you_ ," he said.

(Final Yule Ball statistics: Three fights and one first kiss.)

_Year Five_

Studying with John was _always_ a mistake.

"You already know all this," he said, pushing the stack of books away from me. We were sitting on a blanket outside by the lake. John had sworn that if he had to spend one more minute in the library, he'd light fire to all the books, starting with art history.

"OWLs start next week!" I reached across him to retrieve the books, and he pulled me into his lap.

"You heard Professor Schmidt. Relaxation is an important part of OWL preparation." He brushed his lips across mine.

"Haven't we already done enough 'relaxing'?"

There weren't a lot of places to be alone at Hogwarts, but John knew where every single one was. Today, he had placed us just far enough in the trees that the casual passerby wouldn't see us.

"I'm only trying to help," John said. His next kiss wasn't as quick and before long, I found myself stretched out on the blanket, John's hands pulling up my robe.

I wasn't unfamiliar with such adventures--I had always been curious and John did nothing to dissuade that curiosity--but I was also pretty worried about the OWLs, so I rolled away from him.

John sighed. "Do you want me to quiz you on Potions again?"

"Yes," I said.

John reached for a book and I curled up next to him as he asked me questions. This lasted for nearly an hour before he decided I needed more relaxation.

_Year Six_

"Did you hear something?" Tony asked. We were performing one of our prefect duties, patrolling the halls, looking for students who weren't where they were supposed to be.

"No," I said, but not only had I heard something, I'd seen a flash of blond hair dart around the corner.

"Are you sure?" Tony asked, and led us in that direction.

I wasn't worried about John getting caught. He was too clever for that. I _was_ a little worried about what he'd been up to. He'd been behaving himself lately, which was never a good sign. It always meant there was something going on I wouldn't like.

We passed by one of the paintings John's family had donated. It was a little crooked. Otherwise it looked the same as it always did and yet . . .

"You switched it," I said to John the next afternoon. We were alone in Professor Schmidt's classroom, supposedly studying, but really, I'd been working hard to distract John, the better to catch him at his most vulnerable.

"Whatever you're talking about, I'm innocent," he said, his hands in places that weren't the least bit innocent.

"The painting," I said.

John didn't reply.

"The one you told me about second year," I said.

Now John pushed away from me and groaned. "I wish you didn't remember everything I ever said."

"And all the times you've stolen art books from me . . . "

" _Borrowed_."

"Is this what you want to do with your life?" I asked. "If you can forge magic paintings, you can do _anything_."

It was the first time I'd dared refer to the future. We were in our sixth year and John had quietly copied my class schedule. He knew, I think, that I planned to continue studying as long as the magic world would let me. I'd been too afraid to ask what he wanted.

John didn't respond.

"What's your plan?" I asked. 

John looked away from me and then back. "What does it matter?"

"It matters because--" And I threw up my hands, unwilling to be the one to say it first.

He caught my hands in his and pulled me to him. "Poor Vicky. You should've stuck to your resolution not to speak to me."

"I just . . . don't want to lose you."

John stilled, frozen for a minute, before his hands started moving on my body. "You know me. I'm the bad penny you can't get rid of."

And so the matter was dropped. I couldn't prove anything, but John seemed to be studying just a tiny bit harder and I didn't see him in the halls at night again.

Of course, he might've just gotten better at sneaking around.

_Year Seven_

Tony and I were making the rounds when I saw a familiar blond head disappear around a familiar corner. The rest of our patrol passed without incident, we returned to the Ravenclaw common room, I waited for Tony to go up the stairs to the boys' dormitory . . . and snuck back out. I never claimed to be perfect.

John was leaning against the wall, staring up at the painting. I joined him, standing not quite close enough to touch.

"I put it back," he said.

I walked up to the painting, trying to look for some clue to let me know he was telling the truth.

"That's the thing," John said, his eyes on me. "You have to decide if you believe me."

He was right. Maybe Schmidt could tell the difference, but I was only 17 years old. Detecting forgeries was something that would take years more study. And, even then, there were no guarantees John couldn't slip something past me.

"Why?" I asked.

John shrugged. "There's a certain challenge to putting something back to rights."

I walked to him and put my arms around his neck. "Thank you."

John kissed me, slow and lingering. "Vicky, I--"

"What?"

"Nothing," John said.

"Mmm-hmm," I said, resolving to myself that I would force an I love you out of him before we left Hogwarts.

(I succeeded, but just barely. John would have to wait a little longer.)


End file.
